


What Do They Deserve

by Ewelshy



Category: Deathstroke the Terminator (Comics), Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Attempted Branding, Bandages, Beating, Caring Slade Wilson, Chains, Crowbars, Electrocution, Good Slade Wilson, Hurt Dick Grayson, Hurt/Comfort, Injured Dick Grayson, M/M, Mild Language, Pain, Poor Dick, Torture, Whipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-05
Updated: 2019-03-05
Packaged: 2019-11-08 21:07:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17988545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ewelshy/pseuds/Ewelshy
Summary: He didn’t hear the shot until it was too late to move. The dart hit his neck and Dick instantly knew he wasfucked, because this was something strong and fast-acting.Or...Dick gets in a bad situation. Slade, being the good boyfriend he is, rescues him.





	What Do They Deserve

**Author's Note:**

> Please read the tags!

He didn’t hear the shot until it was too late to move. The dart hit his neck and Dick instantly knew he was _fucked_ , because this was something strong and fast-acting. He butchered his landing and landed roughly on his side, vision blurring at the edges. He heard the sound of boots echoing off the warehouse walls and tried to press his emergency beacon. Dick felt his wrist being caught in a tight hold, tight enough to leave bruises. He desperately tired to keep his eyes open, but it was getting harder and harder to.

He slipped into unconsciousness.

When Dick woke, it was quiet. He was hanging from chains attached to cuffs on his wrists, low enough to allow his feet to be on the floor comfortably; the chains were attached to a pulley. He knew that most, if not all, of his weapons had been removed from his person, and the lock-picks in his costume had been roughly cut away, not allowing Dick to reach for anything- smart. He then realised his gloves were missing. This was not good; whoever they were, they were not amateurs.

It was silent for only a few minutes when Dick heard footsteps coming from down the corridor, along with voices that he didn’t recognise. He forcibly relaxed himself and went limp in the chains, swaying slightly. The door opened and before Dick could do anything, an electrified stick was thrust into his chest, making him gasp and jerk away.

“Told ya he’d be awake already, that’s fifty bucks Jerry.” One of the guys laughed to another.

There were three of them, one holding the stick, another holding a bag and ‘Jerry’ who was just looking annoyed at the first. The first ignored him in favour of stalking closer to Nightwing, who jerked away as the man grabbed his chin. He kicked out and landed a solid hit on the man’s solar plexus, sending the man reeling back with a cry. It didn’t do much more than aggravate him though, as the men behind him shot forward and grabbed his legs, cuffing his ankles that were attached to chains he hadn’t even seen yet. Dick let out a low growl as the first man approached him again, but the cuffs were tight and didn’t give him enough leeway to do any more damage.

The man smirked slightly when he saw Nightwing trying to get out of the chains. “You won’t get out of those, Nightwing.”

Dick stopped struggling and looked the man in the eye. “Okay then,” he said, “what is it that you so require from me? My schedule is so busy these days, but I’m sure I could pencil you in for _go fuck yourself._ That good enough for you? Or should I try later?”

The first man laughed unkindly. “Sorry to be a bother Nightwing, but I believe you have no choice but to fit us in. My name’s Robert Murphy, and you are here because you arrested my brother last year. His name was Peter Murphy, and he _died_ in prison a couple of months ago. It is your fault he died, so I figured I would take your life for his. Fair trade, yes? Oh, and Peter would want me to have fun with it, so I figured I’d have a couple of my friends come along with me. Want to get started?”

Nightwing shifted. “No thanks, I like being alive.” He remembered Peter Murphy. He was a drug dealer on the outskirts of Bludhaven and Dick had linked him to multiple cases of murder and theft; it had taken a while, but he’d been able to track Peter down to a ratty apartment and have the police take him in.

“That isn’t your choice to make I’m afraid.” Murphy’s had gotten darker as he lifted the electrified stick and twisted it slightly in his hand.

He cruelly jabbed it into Dick’s side, but Nightwing didn’t cry out, only jerked and pulled harshly against the cuffs, swallowing any sounds before they escaped his throat. Murphy did this again and again, several times, jabbing him and pulling away, beginning to circle the chained vigilante. On the eighth jab, Dick cried out and Murphy pressed the stick against his upper back, slowly increasing the voltage until Dick began to scream. After a few seconds, he pulled away, leaving his captive to slump pathetically in the chains, breathing heavily.

Murphy opened the bag on the floor and began to look for something. He pulled out a whip and Dick felt fear spark in his chest. Murphy slowly walked over to Nightwing, observing his every movement; he positioned himself at the back of the cell, facing Nightwing’s back, and Dick held his breath in wait.

The first crack made him grit his teeth and squeeze his eyes shut against the pain as the whip cut into his back with every strike. He cried out and clenched his fists when a particularly hard hit split his skin; he felt blood begin to trickle down his back slowly, but that didn’t deter Murphy, who whipped him mercilessly for over thirty more strikes. When he finished, he came over and patted Nightwing on the back, eliciting a harsh cry of pain from him. Murphy smirked and made his way back over to the bag.

“Having fun yet? I certainly am.”

Nightwing struggled for breath but managed to give a smile. “Well,” he panted, “I don’t do this- very often, but I can’t say- that I’m enamoured with this date Murphy. I was- expecting dinner.”

Murphy gave a shark-like grin and lifted the next object out of the bag. Dick swallowed and tried once again to pull against the chains.

A crowbar.

The next hour was agony for Dick, as three men struck him again and again, in multiple different places across his body. They broke and bruised and cracked his bones and skin, making him cry out and thrash in the chains. When it seemed they were done, ‘Jerry’ bought what looked like a metal collar forward, but instead of going around his neck, Dick realised it was too wide for that- it was going around his _eyes_. Murphy and the other man held his head still between them as he fought weakly, and Jerry fixed the metal around his eyes. The metal went over his eyes and plunged him into complete darkness, sending panic shooting through his body. He took measures breaths and listened to what was going on around him. He heard laughing but couldn’t place where it was in the cell, as it echoed around his head and sent fear through him.

The door slammed and Dick was left by himself in the cold cell.

Every day- or at least what he thought was a day- he would get a small drink of water and pieces of bread fed to him. Then the same person would dump a bucket of ice water over his head. The first time, he hadn’t been expecting it and had inhaled quite a bit of water. The second time he knew it was coming and held his breath. Murphy didn’t seem to like that and he got a cruel hit to the solar plexus after that, sending him reeling but unable to curl in on himself because of the chains. They just laughed at his pain, especially when the icy water ran down his back and ran over the bloody marks on his back.

After repeating this for ten days, they decided to shake things up a little. They used the pulley attached to the chains above his head and lifted him in the air, putting considerable strain on his shoulders. Murphy proceeded to jab at him with the electric stick again and again, until he was on the verge of passing out, before pulling away completely. Once again, they left him in the cell, still blindfolded and helpless. After a few hours, his left shoulder popped out of its socket, the right one following only moments later. 

His cries echoed around the room.

By now, Dick thought that he probably had mild hypothermia because of the water. He was continuously shaking, and he suspected that his lips and nails were tinged with blue. One of the things he hated the most was the damn blindfold over his eyes. He could handle pain. He could handle cold. But the inability to see was much more frightening on a deeper, more primal level; it was terrifying not being able to see where the next attack was coming from.

Dick felt his body tense up again as his cell door opened, and someone approached him- this was something different though, because he’d already had water and bread. Someone was here to cause him more pain.

“Enjoying yourself Nightwing?” Murphy murmured in his ear. 

Dick flinched and jerked away as much as he could but cried out when the movement jostled his arms and back. When had he got that close?

“I’ve had- better- dates.” He wheezed, twisting his head to try locating where his captor was.

Murphy chuckled and Dick could _hear_ his smirk. “Well, we can’t have that, can we?”

A shot rang out and Dick was momentarily thrown as he lost his sense of hearing, before the pain kicked in. His leg. He gritted his teeth and pushed back the cry, releasing a heavy breath that was stilted and made the broken and cracked ribs in his chest hurt.

His breath came in heavy pants and he hung on his arms, which by now were _agony_. Everywhere hurt.

Not having the breath or energy to do or say anything, Dick stayed silent, head hanging and mouth parted slightly as he heard the tell-tale click and roar of a blowtorch. He swallowed and had no choice but to listen as Murphy began to talk.

“You killed a Murphy.” He murmured. “So I’m gonna give you a permanent reminder of what you did, okay? What I have here is a brand, a brand of the letter ‘M’. It’s a fancy ‘M’, just so you know, written in nice cursive, but that won’t matter. It’s going to find a home on your cheek, so when they find your body, they’ll all know why you died…” his voice seemed far away and breathy, much more detached than he’d ever been.

Dick’s breath began to speed up as he heard Murphy getting closer, his steps getting louder as he approached. “No… No- please. Please don’t-” He turned his face away from where Murphy was and thrashed in the chains, doing nothing but hurting himself further. 

Hands grabbed the sides of his head and Dick whimpered, fear making tears well up in his eyes.

“Its too late for that Nightwing… too late…”

Multiple shots from a gun ran out around the room and Dick felt the man holding his head fall to the ground, and he heard Murphy and someone else scream before they fell silent. Dick felt hands on his hip and he jerked violently, a sob ripping itself from his throat.

“No more…” he whispered, too tired and in pain to feel embarrassed at the weakness in his voice.

“Its okay, little bird, I’m getting you out of here.” A familiar voice murmured in his ear. The metal blindfold fell away first and Dick had to squeeze his eyes shut at the bright lights; when the chains holding him up were released, he slumped forward and would have landed on his face had someone not caught him. He felt the prick of a needle in his shoulder as his arms fell limply at his sides, sending sharp pains through his body.

“Slade…?” he slurred, alarm bleeding into his words.

“Just so your not in pain, little bird. Go to sleep, I’m not going anywhere.” Slade rumbled, and Dick leaned into his warmth, tears slowly making their way down his face as days of exhaustion and pain and fear came crashing down on him. He let the lull of sleep pull him under.

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~

He woke with an odd absence of pain. 

Dick slowly came to awareness that he was on a soft bed, someone holding his hand gently. He opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling, working up the energy to sit up. He lifted himself up but a rush of pain through his back and chest made him cry out and fall back against the sheets. 

“You’re awake.” A voice rumbled to his left, and Dick turned his head to look into Slade’s icy blue eyes. He felt a cool cup push at his lips and he drunk greedily, relishing the coolness as it fell down his throat. He sighed softly.

“Its over?” he whispered to his lover.

“Yes, little bird. Its over.” He leaned forward and kissed Dick’s lips softly. “Gave me quite a scare when you disappeared off the face of the planet, Grayson.” He murmured. “Then I find you about to be _branded_ by your captor.”

Dick whimpered as a wave of pain came over him as he moved his legs. Slade pushed his shoulders back onto the bed and placed a hand on his forehead. 

“Wintergreen helped me in removing the bullet from your leg, and resetting your ankle, ribs and shoulders. Your back needed quite a few stitches, and a couple of the marks were slightly infected. You can’t go acrobatting around the place or you’ll rip them out. You also had minor hypothermia and you’re fever broke some time after two in the morning.” Slade listed, face becoming more upset as he talked.

Dick noticed this and lifted Slade’s fingers to his lips. “I’m okay,” he breathed, “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Good.” Slade whispered. He sat on the bed Dick was on and pulled him close, being careful of his injuries.

They sat in silence for a while; Slade assumed Dick had fallen asleep until he spoke up again.

“Slade, what happened to Murphy? The guy who was about to- to brand me?” his voice was soft and weak, hiding pain.

The bigger of the two nuzzled Dick’s hair and blew out a breath. “Nothing they didn’t deserve little bird. Nothing they didn’t deserve.”

**Author's Note:**

> Did you like? Comment and kudos! X


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